


In This Moment

by sleepypoet



Category: Slipknot (Band)
Genre: Communication, Driving, Feelings, Friendship, Gen, Road Trips, Understanding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-13 19:20:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29033796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepypoet/pseuds/sleepypoet
Summary: They can’t run forever, but that won’t stop them from trying.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 6





	In This Moment

**Author's Note:**

> Life has me feeling some sort of way, so I wrote this on a whim

An empty highway, stretched below a pale blue sky. A field of golden yellow grass, rustling in the slight breeze, overgrown and unkept. The low hum of the car engine, windows rolled halfway down, acoustic guitar seeping out of the speakers. Paul sitting in the passenger's seat, cigarette loosely tucked between his index and middle finger, warm eyes watching as the world passes in a blur. Craig at the wheel, sunglasses resting on his head, fingers tapping to the rhythm of the song. Driving to nowhere in particular, really. Just driving.

This is necessary.

Craig can’t recall exactly when they started doing this. Going on road trips. Packing their shit and just leaving. Doesn’t matter whether they’re in the middle of recording. Doesn’t matter if they’re busy. It’s against the rules to say no. You can’t cop out. That’s the best part.

Sometimes the trip would last a few hours, other times it’d be a day, occasionally even a week. Not bothering to answer their phones, even when the band is dying to know where the hell they are. Just on the road. Stopping wherever feels right. Eating what they want, doing what they want, just going out on a whim. No planning. No talking. Just doing. Going. Driving. 

This time it was Paul who had initiated it. Pulled up to Craig’s driveway, yesterday morning. Sat on the porch with him for an hour or two, brought a few beers and his bass. Talked about life. Cried a little. It happens. It's life. Craig just watched him play. Listened to him speak, nodded along to his words. 

Waited for the question. Waited for Paul to give him that look, waited for that eager glint in his eyes that always seems to say everything for him. The look, the one that’s so ready to go, to get on the road and leave everything behind. Live a different life for a bit.

Paul needs this.

Craig does too, deep down.

The feeling never goes away, for either of them. It’s always lingering, like some nagging sensation that neither of them can ignore. They don’t even know what it is, how it works, or why they feel it. The feeling starts out small and builds up over time, just keeps growing and growing until one of them breaks. Then they’re back on the road. It’s like some sort of spiritual calling, a beckoning, a primal urge to drive away from whatever is chasing them. 

They can’t run forever, but that won’t stop them from trying. 

Paul shifts in his seat. Flicks the butt of his cigarette out the window. 

Craig can feel those eyes on him. He can feel his smile, too. His dorky smile, with that gap between his two front teeth. He throws a quizzical glance in the other’s direction, as if to ask, _What?_

Paul shrugs. “Just happy to finally be back on the road.”

Craig nods. He gets it. He feels the same. And as far as either of the two know, they’re the only ones who feel this way. The only ones who have this urge to run, to drive, as if staying stationary for too long would kill them. 

Maybe it’s the fame. That’s what Paul says, at least. The constant recognition, the stress and the expectations and every other shitty side effect of being in a band. Just makes them want to escape. Live a separate reality, disassociate from the real world.

Paul and Craig were cut from the same cloth. As in, neither of them are cut out for the rockstar life. It doesn’t feel right. Craig doesn’t like it. Paul doesn’t either, Craig knows it, but Paul would never bring himself to admit it. Paul loves the band. It’s his entire life, the reason for his being. How could he possibly say he doesn’t like the attention, the fame, after all they’ve been through?

Craig, on the other hand. He isn’t sure how long he wants to keep doing this. Actually, he’s wanted to quit for a while now. Since their second album, to be exact. But he can’t leave, he can’t throw it all away. He wouldn’t do that to Paul. It would feel like betraying his closest friend. Or maybe he’s just scared of ending up alone. Scared of losing the person closest to him. 

A life without Paul is something he doesn’t want to think about.

The sun is high in the sky, beaming down on Craig’s car. They still have so much time in the day, and neither of them have a single clue on how to spend it. Other than driving around, that is. 

Craig takes a swig from his water bottle. Keeps his eyes on the never ending road in front of him. 

“Wanna stop soon?” They’ve been driving for a while now, and Craig figures a short break wouldn’t hurt.

Paul laughs. “Stop where? I haven’t seen a single building for the past 10 minutes.”

Craig shrugs. They take this road every time, yet they’ve never stopped to really appreciate the barren land. To process the comforting isolation, to enjoy the overgrown wildlife.

“Dunno. We could sit in the grass for a bit.”

Paul hums in consideration. They’ve never done that one before. Could be worth it. The weather is nice and they have cold drinks in the back.

“Yeah, sure, why not?”

That’s all Craig needs to pull over, car slowing a bit as it transitions from asphalt to grass. Parks the car once it’s a safe distance from the road, turning his keys to shut the engine off.

They both pile out on either side, Paul heading for the back to fetch drinks. Craig walks a few steps out into the field, hands shoved in his pockets. Scans the area. There’s no clouds in the sky today. Still no buildings. No houses or cars or anything of the sort. But the air smells smoky, as if someone had made a campfire not too long ago. Weird how you can smell a fire from miles away. Reminds him of when he was a kid, Halloween nights always had such a smoky air to them. He misses that. Misses being young, carefree, irresponsible.

Paul trudges over with a 6 pack and a grin on his face. “Smells like barbecue out here. Where’s it even coming from?”

Craig shrugs. He likes it though. The atmosphere. He lowers himself onto the grass, letting himself fall back into the dirt. Hands and arms outstretched, staring up at the sky. He can hear Paul huff as he sits next to him. His presence brings Craig comfort. Paul is unlike anyone he’s ever known. He’s just different. He’s better than everyone else. 

Paul flops onto his back as well, hands tucked under his head.

“This is nice.”

Craig hums in agreement. Though nice is an understatement.

It’s so odd. It’s just weird. Weird how despite all these people, despite everyone in their lives, it always feels like it’s him and Paul against the world. Running away from everyone and everything, fighting to stay above water. Refusing to let whatever’s chasing the two pull them under. 

Craig feels like he’s drowning under the blue sky. Gravity pulling at his limbs, grass tickling his arms and legs, as if it were trying to wrap him up in a blanket. 

“Life’s been… fucking crazy, man.”

Craig can feel the mental exhaustion in his friend, just through his voice. “Yeah?”

“... yeah.”

Craig doesn’t press Paul any further. He’ll open up about it when he wants to. When the time is right. He just needs to be here for him. They need to be here for each other. It’s a mutual thing. 

He’s not sure what’s going to happen in the future. He’s not sure if these road trips are ever going to stop. He hopes not. It’s the only way for him to feel whole again, to feel real and human and not just some guy in a band who’s put on a fucking pedestal for being famous. Just a _normal guy_. 

Some nights he isn’t sure he’s going to make it. Some nights he doesn’t want to. Doesn’t want to wake up the next morning and live this life, a life of expectations and deadlines and being bossed around by a guy in a goddamn clown mask. Sometimes he just doesn’t want that sort of life. Sometimes he wants to forget everything.

Everything, except for Paul.

“Hey, Craig?”

Craig closes his eyes. “Hm?”

“Love you, dude.”

He smiles. Maybe not everything in this world is so bad.

“Love you too, Paul.”


End file.
